


Waiting For Someone To Perform With

by broadwaydarren



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Soul Mates AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadwaydarren/pseuds/broadwaydarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just an ordinary night at work for Darren, until he spots an unusually sad looking guy, and can't help but try to cheer him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting For Someone To Perform With

The night Darren sees him is just a regular Saturday night show. 

He works at a theater in Las Vegas as part of a Beatles cover band, and there are shows almost every night of the week for him. Normally, the audience is easy to tune out. He can just listen to the applause at the end of each song, and not focus on specific faces or people in the audience, even when his family or friends come to see him, and he can just feel them conjuring up a million playful insults when they see his straightened-to-death bowl-cut hair.  
On this Saturday night, however, it's different. 

He spots him during one of the songs where he isn't singing lead - a rare event, since the manager of the theater seems to have decided that Darren is the most talented singer. (The manager has even given songs to him that the Beatle he's supposed to be portraying, Paul McCartney, didn't actually sing lead on.) He's sitting on his own on a table toward the middle and he looks... Well, he looks fucking depressed. They're singing Here Comes The Sun, for Christ's sake, who looks depressed during that? Darren furrows his eyebrows a little, and keeps his eyes on the man for the rest of the performance. He's lean and pale, his brown hair swept up off of his forehead. At the end of the song, he claps politely, but he still looks glum, like someone's just killed his puppy, or the government have just announced a proclamation that makes having fun illegal, or something. Darren is intrigued by him, drawn to him, even. He wants to know why this guy is so sad, why their music isn't making him feel better. He wants, for some reason, to fix it. He wants to see this guy smile, to hear him laugh. No one should be that sad. It's Vegas! You just can't be depressed in Vegas. Not when there's so much to do, so much to see, so much fun to be had. 

During the intermission, after he's finished having a drink and getting any life that might have seeped into his hair ripped out again, he goes back onto the stage and peeks out of the curtains. Unlike most of the other patrons, his guy hasn't gone to the bar to order another drink, or gone outside for a smoke. Nope. Instead, he's reading a well-worn, battered looking copy of "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone", which makes Darren grin to no end. He just _has_ to talk to this guy now, even if he makes himself look like a complete freak or an idiot in the process. 

For the rest of the second act, he keeps his gaze on the man, even going so far as to look directly at him, directly into his eyes, whilst singing "Hey Jude". He doesn't notice at first, looking at the other guys on stage or into space or whatever, but after a couple of long moments he looks at Darren. When he notices Darren staring intensely at him, the guy looks behind him as if trying to figure out what Darren is staring at. When he looks back around he is unable to deny that Darren is, in fact, looking at him. He begins to blush.  
Darren sings with a little more conviction and the guy smiles a little. Darren wants to whoop with happiness, but he reels himself in at the last minute. The manager would not be pleased with that. He gets the feeling that the lyrics don't directly apply to this guy, but it's the thought that counts, right? The guy looks amused, if only at Darren's extreme intensity, and that's a win. 

Satisfied, he only glances at the guy every so often - or maybe a little more than that - for the rest of the show. When they finish up, singing "All You Need Is Love", Darren focuses his gaze on the guy again, grinning at him so hugely and obnoxiously that the guy starts laughing a little and hiding his mouth behind his hand. Darren wishes he could have drowned out the crowd, the music, his own voice, just to be able to hear that laugh. 

He's happy that he accomplished it. He got the guy to laugh, a guy who looked like fairies exploding from the ceiling granting wishes left and right, and Santa riding into the room on the back of his sleigh throwing out presents wouldn't have made him smile before. He wonders what made the guy sad in the first place. He is determined still, to talk to him.  
They finish the number and take their bows, the audience clapping and giving them a standing ovation, Darren's guy included. He's on his feet clapping and smiling, and Darren's heart soars. He walks off stage, ignoring the questions from the other guys in the band asking who he was staring at the whole time, asking whether his girlfriend was here tonight, and goes immediately to the security guard who's waiting just outside the stage door. 

"There's a guy, sitting on one of the tables near the middle of the room, on his own. He's tall, pale, brown hair. Get him to stay behind for me, will you? Tell him I want to talk to him. He doesn't know my name, so just call me Paul, or some shit." Darren says hurriedly. This guy is _not_ slipping from his fingertips. "And if he tries to leave, stall him, yeah?"  
The security guard nods. 

Darren hopes to hell that the guy doesn't think that he's a complete freako waiting to follow him into a back alley and mug him to get money to buy drugs. He shakes his head a little, thanking the security guard and heading to the shower he has in his dressing room, using the intense moisturizing shampoo and conditioner and getting the life, the curl back into his hair. When he steps out of his dressing room he is out of his dapper, well-ironed black suit and in an old Michigan shirt and some ratty grey sweatpants that the was wearing to rehearse a new number they're thinking of adding into the show earlier that day. It occurs to him that he probably looks nothing like he did on stage, but hopefully the guy won't think he just walked in off the street. 

He goes out to main room. The guy is the last one in there except cleaning staff, sitting opposite the security guard, who is telling some sort of story in a gruff voice with lots of hand gestures. Darren walks up, tapping the security guard on the shoulder. "Thanks, Tom. You can head out, now." He says, sliding into the booth when the security guard vacates it. 

"Paul, I assume?" The guy says in a high, almost melodic voice. "Do I know you? Did you go to my high school or something, and I've forgotten?" 

"No, actually. On both counts." Darren laughs. "My name's actually Darren. I just told Tom to give you the name Paul in case you heard my name and wondered who the fuck I was. And yeah, I know I look completely different than I did on stage, without the whole straight-hair-bowl-cut thing going on, but I swear it's really me, the guy who spent, like, the whole show staring at you." He laughs awkwardly, but the guy - his guy, as his inner voice has started calling him - just laughs with him, and fuck, is it even more beautiful than Darren imagined. 

"Chris." The guy introduces himself. "I did think that it must have been a huge coincidence if you got cast as Paul McCartney and your name was really Paul..." He trails off, smiling a little. "So... If you're not from my high school and here to tell me how sorry you are for sticking tampons on my back - don't ask," He interjects when Darren gives him a confused look, "Then why did you want me to stay behind?" 

"I guess I just wanted to know why you looked so sad earlier. That was why I was staring at you. I couldn't understand why you'd come to the show if The Beatles' music made you want to jump off a cliff." Darren says, trying to make a joke out of it. Hopefully the guy hasn't just been through a death, or been told he has cancer or something depressing as hell like that. 

"Oh. Was I really looking that depressed? I didn't even notice..." Chris frowns. 

"That, and I saw you reading Harry Potter during the intermission, and anyone who likes Harry Potter is worth talking to." Darren grins. "Were you sad? Because, I mean, if you weren't and that's just what you look like all the time, then this just got really awkward." 

Chris laughs a little, but this time it's mirthless. "No, I _was_ sad. I just got out of a serious relationship, and... For some reason, whilst he clears his shit out of my apartment, I decided to come back to the place where we went for our first - and only - vacation together. As soon as I got here I realized my mistake. And I remembered that, the first time I was here, he wouldn't let me take him to see this show, because he said The Beatles were outdated." Chris rolls his eyes a little. 

"Oh... Sucks, man." Darren frowns. "But hey, he was obviously messed up in the head if he thought The Beatles are outdated. The Beatles are most definitely still going strong, even more than forty years after breaking up." 

"Yeah, you're right. They're definitely still going strong." Chris agreed. "Especially if they have people like you singing their songs every day." Darren blushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. 

"Aw shucks, you're just sayin' that, man." He deflected. 

"No, really." Chris insists. "I'd say that even if you hadn't indirectly serenaded me in front of a crowd of a couple hundred people." He grins a little. "Thanks for that, by the way. You definitely brightened my day." 

"That was the aim, man." Darren smiles. "I wanted you to smile, to be happy. No one should look that sad, especially someone as gorgeous as you." It was Chris's turn to blush, his cheeks turning a gorgeous shade of pink. "So, how long are you in town for?" Darren asks. 

"Another two weeks. I only got here today, and I wanted to give him time to remove all his stuff. He's... Kind of lazy. He won't do it immediately." Chris informs him, and a plan is already hatching in Darren's head. He's going to make Chris forget all about his stupid, jerkwad ex. 

"Hey, here's an idea. Come for dinner with me, tomorrow night. You can't spend the rest of your time here alone. It'll just give you all the time in the world to wallow in your own thoughts, in sadness, and we don't want that." Darren suggests. He might not say it's a date up front, but, based on what Chris says next, they both know that was his intention.  
"Okay... But it's not a date. I'm... I'm not ready for that. I might have broken up with Marc - my ex - more than month ago, but I don't know if I'm ready to move on yet, as... Lovely," He blushes again, and Darren knows that Chris thinks he's a lot more than just lovely, as arrogant as it sounds. "as you are. It's platonic. Okay? You seem like a nice guy and... If you like Harry Potter, and have relatively the same music taste as me - if The Beatles is our starting point, it can only go up from here - Then I'm sure we'll have a lot to talk about." He smiles again, and Darren zeroes in on it, memorizing it, his breath catching in his throat a little. 

God, Chris is fucking beautiful. Darren is glad he didn't stay around longer for after show shots with the other guys, because he knows he'd be saying all sorts of stupid shit right now if he had, like the age old, "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" or "Do you have a map? I just got lost in your eyes..." He has a tendency to be a little cheesy and over the top as it is, without adding alcohol to his problems. 

"Awesome!" He says finally, realizing there's been a long, semi-awkward pause whilst Darren was consumed by lust. "I promise, you won't regret this." 

"It's not a date!" Chris reminds him. "Not... Not until I say otherwise." 

Obviously Darren's staring hadn't gone unnoticed, because not only does Chris have flushed cheeks again, but Darren has also made progress. He obviously gets that Darren likes him, and god, does he. He doesn't know what it is about Chris, but he just feels inexplicably drawn to him, like he'd regret it forever if he didn't at least try to be with him. He's not sure why, but he feels like this is the sort of connection, pull, you only get once in a lifetime. There is no way he's going to waste this. 

Chris staunchly refuses his offer of walking him back to his hotel, saying that he got a cab here, and he can get one back. Darren smiles, not fighting it, and hails him a cab, opening the door for him and making Chris blush for a third time. He's beginning to like getting to do that. It's fun, and Chris looks fucking adorable when he does it. He gets this shocked look in his eyes, like he hadn't realized other men can be attracted to him, can flirt with him and be chivalrous in order to obtain his favor. He tells Chris goodnight, reciting Chris's hotel address for Chris to confirm once again, and repeating that they're going to meet at seven. 

Once the taxi is gone, he can hardly resist doing a little victory dance, instead distracting himself by putting the address of Chris's hotel into his phone - even though he's already memorized it. He thinks about ideas for the date the whole walk home, the whole time he's grabbing a late-night snack and eating it. He thinks about Chris, about their upcoming date, as he undresses, as he's lying in bed waiting to fall asleep, and when sleep finally comes, he dreams of running through an impossibly huge building that's reminiscent of the theatre where he works, following the path of a thin, ever shortening red string that's attached to his pinky finger. He follows it down hallways and into rooms, where sometimes, it just twists around and goes straight back out again, up flights of stairs, down yet more incredibly long corridors… 

When he finally nears the end of his path, the string drawing tight, he has to walk through a crowd of people who seem to be made of smoke, his hand going straight through them when he tries to push them aside, desperate to see who is on the other end of the string. And then he sees him, the person attached to the other end of the string, the person he’s looking for. He’s solid, tangible, tall and lean with bright blue eyes. Chris.

**Author's Note:**

> Or "What happens when I listen to All You Need Is Love on constant repeat during a a two hour car journey", plus my frustration at whoever decided GML should come out in the UK three months after the US. Huge, huge thanks to Mandy (alittledizzy on tumblr) for kicking my ass into gear about writing this. Sorry it's a day late, I suck! Also, I know in America it's called Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, but I think that's dumb so I kept the original title. 
> 
> Part of the Invisible Thread Project over on tumblr!


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